


Without Words

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fucking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3546587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many ways to say 'I love you'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deflection

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the 100 Ways to Say 'I love you' [post](http://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) by p0ck3tf0x on tumblr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the events of 'The Ultimate Computer'.

Spock enters the observatory approximately two point eight minutes after requesting the captain's whereabouts from the computer. As expected, Jim is alone, and facing the field of stars. The observatory is his preferred location when he wishes to think, and although Spock is fairly certain he chooses it for its privacy, he does not believe the captain will resent his presence.

Nonetheless, he does not speak when he comes to rest beside his captain's shoulder. Jim glances at him, a tight smile shifting his features momentarily. It is an expression usually reserved for Klingons and bureaucrats.

"What can I do for you, Mister Spock?"

Unsettled by the tone, as well as the false smile, Spock recalculates the odds that he is unwelcome. But the captain is waiting for an answer, and therefore he replies, "I wished to inquire as to your well being. We were scheduled to play chess this evening in my quarters."

Jim immediately grimaces. He angles his body so that he is facing Spock fully, and Spock finds himself matching the movements. "Sorry," Jim says, his tone changing as well, to one that is genuinely remorseful; soft. He sighs as he massages his forehead with two fingers. "I forgot. Have you been waiting long?"

"It is inconsequential," Spock reassures him. "I was simply concerned." He pauses to study his captain's features, the strain evident in the dark shadows beneath his eyes. "Are you unwell, Captain?"

A small shake of his head, and a smile that is genuine this time, regardless of its rapid disappearance. "No. I'm fine, Spock. It's been a busy few days, and sometimes," he adds, shoulders rising and falling in a slow shrug, "humans need a little space to reenergize."

The instant clench of Spock's abdominal muscles is an unusual sensation when interacting with the captain. He recognizes it as disappointment; and subsequently suppresses it. "Of course, Captain. I will leave you—"

"Wait, no—" Jim reaches toward him, but his hand falls away before he makes contact. Nonetheless, Spock pauses. His captain's smile makes a brief reappearance. His captain gazes at him for two point three seconds before sighing and returning his attention to the stars.

Spock considers his profile, the hard line of his jaw before retaking position at his side and asking quietly, "Is something amiss, Captain?"

"Amiss?"

Spock is well versed in his conversational habits, and understands the echo is a deflection. "You seem unhappy," he clarifies. A pause to consider. "I believe the doctor would offer you alcohol in an effort to encourage you to speak freely." It is relief this time that curls at Spock's insides when Jim smiles, but he is slow to bury it. It is an indulgence, as is his study of the expression.

He finds himself unable to look away. "You are processing the events of our most recent mission?"

"Daystrom's computer? Not exactly." He turns once more to face Spock. "We'll arrive at the rehabilitation center soon."

"Twelve point three hours."

Another smile, and this time the skin around Jim's eyes wrinkle, which softens his features considerably. A sigh. "I suppose you'll miss him?"

"Captain?"

"Daystrom? You seemed… rather taken with him."

Spock's head tilts as he considers his captain. "His body of work is quite impressive," he agrees. "But I am unconcerned by his impending departure."

Jim's lips twitch as he glances at the floor briefly before meeting Spock's eyes again. His eyes are brighter; perhaps a reflection from the viewport's transparent aluminum. "I'm glad to hear that," he says, a statement Spock does not understand, but he is pleased that the distress has apparently been assuaged. "I'm ready for that chess game now. You?"

"Indeed, Captain."

Still smiling, Jim gestures with both hands toward the door. "After you?"

But, in fact, they exit together.


	2. Captain's Prerogative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the events in 'The Mark of Gideon'.

Tapping his PADD lightly against one knee, Jim glances over at the science station; and to his first officer, who is studying displays, fingers flying over the console. He purses his lips and stands, to cross the bridge silently.

Spock doesn't turn until he's just behind him, and Jim smiles to himself. Spock just always seems to know when he's there. "We will arrive within the Lenaii system in twelve point three minutes, Captain," he reports.

"Good," Jim says, taking that one step closer to his first officer so their conversation will be relatively private. He offers the PADD, and with eyebrows lifted in query, Spock accepts. He scans the screen, and when he looks up, those expressive eyebrows are slumped together in confusion.

"You have rejected my report," he says unnecessarily. "May I ask why?"

"Oh, probably because you disobeyed a direct order to find me," Jim says with a smile. "I'd rather not repay you with a reprimand from the upper echelons."

Spock's eyebrow quirks. "Captain, no repayment is required. I was simply discharging my duty—"

Perching on the console, Jim crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. "No, you weren't. Not your duty to Starfleet, anyway."

Spock has long since stopped disputing his personal loyalty. He dips his chin in a minute nod. "My statement still applies. It is unnecessary for you to shield me from a reprimand. I did, in fact, disobey a direct order."

"Because you knew the admiral was wrong."

"Regardless—"

"Sorry, Spock. My prerogative as your commanding officer. I'll make the report."

Spock pauses, lips parting before he apparently thinks better of whatever he's about to protest. But he still asks, "May I ask what you intend to report, Captain?"

"That I was able to escape without disregarding the federation's directive."

"Such a report would be false," Spock murmurs, head tilted with concern; and maybe just a little bit of scandal. Jim smiles.

"I didn't disregard the directive," he points out. "I'm simply omitting your role."

"An omission," Spock begins, but immediately falters when Jim touches his arm.

"It's my omission," he says quietly, keeping his first officer's gaze. "Let me do this."

It's nothing in the face of all the things Jim wants to do. All the ways he wants to repay Spock, to demonstrate in very great detail how very much he owes him. Spock's dark eyes are tumultuous, but only for a moment. And then the emotion fades, except the affection that Jim will miss during the refit that is only a few months away.

"As you wish, Captain," Spock finally says, and that's enough. It's all they'll ever have. But it's enough.


	3. Here, let me fix it.

"I did tell you not to touch it, Captain."

Jim sighs, cradles his hand to his chest. "All right, well," he begins, glancing around as his mind skips over new scenarios. "We need…"

He trails off as Spock's fingers close around his wrist. "First degree burns," he murmurs, studying the reddened skin before his eyes flick up. "Does it hurt?"

"Only a little," Jim assures him, but he can see it isn't going to work.

"I can mask the pain with a shallow meld," Spock says. He lifts his free to hover over Jim's cheekbone. "May I?"

Jim nods. The warm fingers touch down, pressing gently. "No more pain," Spock says softly, and immediately the throb and sting fade. He realises he's holding his breath, and lets it out. His fingers are still red, still stiff, but the pain is gone.

"Thank you," he says, smiling.

Inclining his head, Spock's fingers fall away from Jim's face, but the light grip on his wrist remains. "A visit to Dr. McCoy will still be required." A pause, a light squeeze against skin. "Please refrain from injuring yourself further."

"I'll do my best," Jim assures him, still smiling. Dark eyebrows rise, pointedly, Jim thinks, before he's released. His wrist is still warm where Spock held him as he returns to the task at hand.


	4. Waiting

"How long has it been?"

"Three hours and ten minutes, Captain," Spock answers, not even pausing to think about it. Jim sighs as he settles in next to Spock. His first officer shifts, and their hips end up pressed together.

"Do you think the Enterprise will come looking for us?"

"If it is at all possible. They will not wish to lose you."

Jim turns his head, smiles. "They wouldn't want to lose you either."

"Perhaps," Spock concedes. "As first officer, however, I am expendable."

"You're not just the first officer. Not to me. And not to the rest of the crew."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Although your sentiment is an emotional one," he murmurs, "it is appreciated."

"Sometimes, Spock, the best sentiments are emotional ones. Now come on," Jim says, squeezing his first officer's forearm briefly, "let's figure out a way out of here. Give Scotty a better chance."


	5. Not a Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Spock at his side, Jim takes a last circuit around the bridge.

He makes the circuit slowly, fingers trailing over the console as he passes Scotty's station. Eight months in space dock.

How lonely she'll be as she waits for her crew to come home.

"I'll visit," he promises, gripping the red rail lightly before taking the steps. He'll miss his chair, he thinks. Miss the way the cushion molds to his muscles, the feel of his ship as she hums beneath his feet. Just once more.

He smiles as he caresses the smooth wood. Five years is not nearly long enough. And yet, their eight month overhaul will seem seem like an eternity.

He'll have to see if he can talk Scotty down to six.

Flicking his thumb over the button for the main viewer, he sighs. His view of the stars is obstructed by orbital station one, where the Enterprise has been assigned a berth. He'll miss the stars too.

He definitely needs to take a trip to Iowa before he gets caught up in red tape. For an old-fashioned night under the stars at the farmhouse. The thought makes some of the ache lessen.

He turns at the sound of the bridge doors opening. Spock steps out of the turbolift. "Captain." His voice sounds too loud in the emptiness. "The inspection crews are asking to come aboard."

"Punctual, aren't they?"

"They were scheduled to board twenty point two minutes ago."

Jim smiles. "Oh. I guess I lost track of time." He's about to push up, but Spock joins him beside the chair instead, hands folded behind his back, but his attention is still with Jim.

"You will be required to visit several times during the course of the refit," he points out.

"It won't be the same."

Spock lifts his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "Perhaps not," he agrees. "However, you are in dire need of restorative leave."

"You and Bones seem to be in agreement for once," Jim sighs. "I admit, I am looking forward to going home for awhile."

"Indeed" Spock turns to watch the bustle of the port, and Jim considers the stoic profile.

"Have you ever been to Iowa?" he asks after a minute.

Spock turns his head, eyebrow angled high with curiosity. "Negative."

"It's beautiful this time of year," Jim murmurs. He hesitates for a second and then forges ahead, "If you don't have any plans yet, you should come with me."

A slight frown creases Spock's forehead. Jim waits patiently. "I would not wish to be a burden," Spock finally says carefully.

"You wouldn't be," Jim promises, although he's trying not to grin in giddy satisfaction. "We have plenty of room. My mom would be delighted to have you."

"Indeed?"

Jim nods. His mother has been wanting to meet Spock for years. "So… is that a yes?"

His first officer thinks it over for another few seconds and then finally nods once. "I would be honored."

Jim does grin then. Eight months is far too long to be without his ship, but as long as he has Spock, he'll be fine.


	6. Pull over. Let me drive.

"If you will allow me to…" But Spock’s words trail off, and Jim almost smiles at the way his eyebrows knit together.

"I can bend my legs if that helps," he offers. His legs are on either side of his first officer’s shoulders. Spock’s mouth and tongue have been focused on his dick for the last twenty minutes, intent upon exploring every inch of him. Finally sliding his mouth down to Jim’s balls, tentatively licking at them and even sucking gently.

It wasn’t until his tongue dipped below his ballsac that he paused.

He knows Spock understands the mechanics—and the need to stretch Jim before he fucks him. He read everything he could find on human sexual practices once he realised Jim was just as interested in moving beyond the impromptu kisses they shared during their last mission—isolated for three days and waiting for rescue.

"Perhaps," Spock murmurs agreement, bringing Jim’s mind back from the pleasant memories, the heady rush he felt when their lips met for the first time. "If you have no objections?"

"None," Jim assures him with a grin, drawing his legs up and letting them fall open just enough that Spock will have clear access. His face stilling in concentration, Spock applies lube to his fingers with precise movements. His eyebrows are still pulled together as he lifts Jim’s balls gently with his thumb.

He pauses there though, gaze coming back up to find Jim’s. ”I have no wish to injure you,” he says quietly.

Jim reaches out to squeeze his slippery fingers. Spock’s breath catches a little and Jim smiles again. ‘You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

Spock holds his gaze for a second and then dips his chin just a fraction. Just enough that Jim knows he’s reassured. It doesn’t last. He slips his fingers between Jim’s ass cheeks, intently watching Jim’s face for a reaction—for any signs of pain. Eventually, when he finds none, he tips his index finger inside. He pushes in slowly, but it still burns.

Jim wills himself to relax even as his own breath catches. Spock stills.

"It feels good," Jim assures him. Or it will in a minute. "It will," he amends because he can’t lie to Spock. Doesn’t want to anyway. "Keep going."

Spock doesn’t pull away, but there’s a crease between his eyebrows now and it’s no longer amusing.

Jim can feel his worry through their contact. His uncertainly. And that’s not at all what he wants. He reaches out again, this time to brush his fingertips over Spock’s chest. ”Or if you’d prefer,” he says softly, “we could trade places.”

Spock’s head tilts to the side. ”You would prefer to penetrate me?”

Jim watches the colour rise in his cheeks and knows he likes the idea. Brushing his knuckles over one of Spock’s nipples, he licks his lips as he nods. ”Any objections?”

"Negative," Spock answers, his voice lower. It was Jim’s preference to begin with, but when Spock expressed an interest in topping, Jim agreed enthusiastically. But clearly, this will work as well.

Smiling, Jim pulls away from Spock’s finger, which is then fastidiously wiped on one of the cloths on the bedside table. Jim sits up and waits patiently and then when Spock looks at him expectantly, he pounces. Pounces carefully, using his weight to lower Spock’s body to the mattress. And then he kisses him, framing his face between his hands and humming in contentment when Spock does the same.

Like this, with Spock’s hands at the meld points, he can feel his emotions more strongly, feels how much Spock wants this. And when he slides down his first officer’s body and takes Spock’s dick into his mouth, Spock cradles the back of his head, his breaths growing shallower.

Jim takes his time, just as Spock did, giving attention to his cock and his balls, pulling them into his mouth and that makes Spock arch up. Jim tries to watch him, watch the minute changes of expressions, the warmth there as he meets Jim’s gaze.

Jim lets his balls go then, smiles at him and squeezes his fingers when Spock reaches. It’s difficult to apply lube one-handed, but he does it. Rubs between Spock’s ass cheeks and then dips back down to close his mouth over his dick again.

And that helps with the pain when he pushes a finger in. Keeps Spock’s mind on the pleasure, the wet heat of Jim’s mouth. He sucks gently, harder still when he pushes another finger in, squeezes at Spock’s hand to reassure, but Spock doesn’t seem to be bothered by the sensations.

His legs open wider and Jim pushes in another, stretching him carefully until Spock, voice raspy, says, “I believe I am sufficiently prepared.”

Jim kisses his dick before he pulls away completely, smiles down at his Vulcan, at the dark flush across his cheeks. His eyes are bright too and when Jim lifts his legs up, Spock winds them tight around Jim’s waist.

Jim takes his time, pushing in slowly, letting Spock get used to the sensation. His eyes are full of concentration, like he’s considering every movement, every ripple of muscles as Jim slides in.

"Okay?" Jim asks, breathless now, muscles quivering as he fights to hold himself still. Spock’s fingers skim over his cheekbone, face soft now—that smile in his eyes that no one else gets to see.

And he sounds a little breathless too when he answers, “I believe the exchange was a logical choice.”

Jim laughs a little and the answering mirth in Spock’s eyes fills his chest with warmth.

"You may proceed now," Spock tells him seriously, his legs tightening. Smiling, Jim slides his hand between their bodies and takes Spock’s dick in hand, which breaks the calm expression a little.

Jim starts moving his hips, slowly at first—no need to rush. They’ll get there in the end. For now, he wants to concentrate on the way Spock’s fingers trail ceaselessly over his skin, on the feel of his heels as they dig into his back.

He could stay like this forever, he decides, wrapped in Spock, and still it wouldn’t be enough. And he knows, from the answering warmth he feels from his first officer at the thought, that he feels the same way.

Forever, he decides. That’s exactly what they’ll have.


	7. Have a good day at work.

Spock’s fingers glide over Jim’s cheekbones, sliding downward when they reach his nose, tracing the outline of his lips before moving over the swell of his chin and then up along his jaw until they’re cradling the back of Jim’s head. 

He’s always quiet when they do this, and so Jim follows his lead. But he can’t stop the smile as he watches his bondmate. The focus in his dark eyes, the concentration that he reserves for Jim alone.

For these moments before they leave their quarters. 

He didn’t understand it the first time Spock did it—the morning after their bonding ceremony. Not until Spock forewent his usual meditation before they left for the bridge together. 

This is how he orders his mind for the coming day—this form of touch that only exists between them. 

And it’s not until Jim reciprocates that Spock closes his eyes, finally giving his mind over completely. A soft exhale of breath as he sets their foreheads together and allows Jim free reign, his own fingers steady at the back of his neck as Jim explores the rise of his cheekbone, the slant of an eyebrow. Trails his fingers through the fine hair before tracing the curve of a delicate ear.

He cups Spock’s cheek then, kisses his nose gently. It’s not part of the ritual—not in the Vulcan way but Spock responded the first time with his own lips, soft against Jim’s. 

He does so now, mouth gentle as he invites Jim in. 

With a sigh of contentment, Jim kisses him back.


	8. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

“I’m sorry,” Jim says quietly, shifting but not looking up yet, because he doesn’t know what he’ll find when he does. “I don’t know why I said that." 

"You were angry,” Spock’s voice is quiet, a little bit stilted. Jim doesn’t look at him yet. 

“It isn’t a very good excuse though, is it?" 

It’s unpleasant to hear Spock’s murmured, “No, it is not.” 

He presses his lips together, nods a little. “I’ll try not to let my emotions get the better of me again.” 

He’s a little startled when Spock steps into his space. He finally lifts his head, finds Spock gazing at him, eyes solemn. There’s an undercurrent of warmth as he says, “I believe that is unlikely, Jim.” 

Heat prickles at Jim’s throat. He’s relieved, and indignant all at once. Even if he knows Spock is probably right. His new husband offers him two fingers, and letting his breath out quietly, Jim accepts. ”I’m really sorry,” he says again, softly; means it as much as the first time. But this one is easier, with Spock close, his eyes and face open to whatever Jim has to say. Like always. 

His fingers are caressing familiar patterns. “I apologize as well.” 

"It’s forgiven,” Jim assures him, smiling. 

“I am uncertain,” Spock begins, but then falls silent, his eyes searching. 

“Sometimes,” Jim offers, sliding his free hand beneath Spock’s tunic to feel his heartbeat, “after a disagreement…” He presses a kiss to his jaw. 

And Spock catches on quickly. ”Ah.” His hand is on Jim’s hip, drawing him in. Jim grins, tilts his chin up to meet Spock’s lips this time.


	9. "Sit down, I'll get it."

“Perhaps your command chair would be a more appropriate place,” Spock suggests, too calmly for a man with a dick in his ass. 

“Cliché,” Jim pants as he pushes in slowly, letting Spock get used to the stretch. “Everyone has sex in the captain’s chair.”

“Everyone?” 

Jim kisses his shoulder, chuckling softly. “Not everyone.” Spock’s reflection eyes him in the view screen. 

“You have not utilized the command chair for sexual intercourse?” he asks, soundly merely curious but Jim can hear the thread of discontent in the question. 

Jim keeps up the steady rhythm, trying to keep his voice even. “You know… I don’t have sex with my…. crew.” The last is mostly a groan as Spock pushes back into him. 

“I am a member of your crew.” 

Jim buries his smile in Spock’s neck. “Other than you.” 

“Mm,” Spock murmurs, and it’s thoughtful. Jim reaches around to grasp his cock, hoping to get his thoughts back on track. He strokes it in time to his thrusts, lost to the feel of it in his fist. 

He stills when Spock says his name, rising in a question. “You okay?” Jim asks, concerned by the hesitation he can sense in his husband’s mind. 

“I am curious,” Spock replies. 

That’s promising then. He brushes his lips over his shoulder, thumb sliding beneath the head of Spock’s dick. “What about?” 

“Perhaps we might… utilize your command chair?” 

Jim grins. “Of course.” He can feel the anticipation humming through their bond, an eagerness he’s not used to yet. He tries to project back how much he likes the idea as well, and when he pulls out carefully, Spock’s eyes are dark with arousal. 

Gently, Jim leads him to the center seat, enjoying the way his first officer’s eyes travel down his body as he arranges himself. He’s back to looking uncertain though when Jim offers him a hand. But Jim can feel his trust too, and he comes willingly. It takes a bit of strategic maneuvering, but Spock is soon lowering himself on Jim’s dick.

Jim steadies him with a hand firm against his back. They both moan when Spock’s fully seated. “Okay?” Jim asks, gritting his teeth to keep himself from thrusting up. But Spock obviously is. He lifts his hips up slowly, and sinks back down again, his eyes thoughtful. 

Jim watches Spock’s eyes as they flutter, his breath catching as he thrusts up just a little. 

“An interesting sensation,” he breathes. “If you wish to set the pace, I will not object.” 

Smiling, Jim complies, keeping his rhythm steady, enjoying the pleasure he can sense. The spark of heat in his husband’s dark eyes as Jim reaches between them and takes his dick in hand. And when he can’t help himself, Jim grips the back of Spock’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. 

The kisses are slow as well, deep and slow and perfect. But when Spock’s fingers spasm against his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he comes, Jim’s careful rhythm finally breaks. 

Spock clenches around him, encouraging him through his orgasm. The aftershocks still coursing through him, Jim pulls him closer, the quiet broken only by their uneven breaths. 

Caressing Spock’s back, Jim eventually asks, “Experiment successful?” 

“I cannot be certain,” Spock murmurs, “until I have more data.” 

Jim laughs. “That can be arranged.”


	10. You're warm.

"Let me do that," Jim says, gently nudging his first officer aside to tend to the fire. 

Spock’s face is flushed green from the bitter wind and his hands are shaking. But he still protests, “I assure you, I am fully capable—”

"I know you are," Jim assures him with a smile. He runs a palm down Spock’s back, leaving it to rest at the base of his spine. "I just want to help." 

Spock relents, probably because he has experience dealing with Jim’s own brand of stubbornness when it comes to Spock’s well-being. He stays close to the fledging flames, his hands clasped tightly together now, in an effort to conserve warmth. 

As he concentrates on the fire, Jim berates himself for bringing Spock along on this particular mission. Of course, he couldn’t have known they would be separated from the rest of the landing party—or that their communicators would be rendered useless for reasons they still haven’t discovered. 

But he did know that this planet was considerably cooler than Spock could tolerate for long periods. And even though he hadn’t expected to be planetside for more than a few hours, he should have left Spock onboard anyway. 

"Recriminations are illogical," Spock’s says quietly, breaking into Jim’s thoughts and bringing his attention from the fire. Firelight dances in Spock’s brown eyes, shadows playing over the angles in his face and Jim can’t help but reach for him, to draw his fingers down Spock’s jaw. 

"You’re cold," he murmurs, although he means to say something else. The corner of Spock’s mouth lifts a fraction. 

"And you are warm." 

Jim smiles, slides his thumb over his bondmate’s bottom lip. The fire is crackling between them now. Spock’s still shivering though. ”Come on,” Jim says, letting his hand fall away. “Let’s get you warmed up.” 

Spock’s eyebrow arches at that, and Jim laughs softly. ”Not an innuendo this time,” he chuckles. 

They have supplies, thankfully, insisted upon by Bones before they left. Thermal blankets and rations. The ground is rocky beneath them, but it doesn’t matter once they’re tangled together, the blankets wrapped tightly around them, the fire hot at their backs. 

Spock’s face is nestled in Jim’s neck. His nose is cold, but Jim just pulls him closer. Spock exhales softly, his gratitude fully felt through their bond.


	11. Deflection

Spock enters the apartment quietly, as he always does. He is unsurprised to find Jim is not in the main rooms. At this late hour, he is likely asleep. 

The thought of retiring without greeting his bondmate is an unpleasant one. The feeling is amplified by the fact that he has spent the past five days without Jim’s company—without his touch. 

And though he has lived the majority of his life without it, he has no desire to do so any longer. 

There is comfort in the knowledge, however, that he will be able to lie next to his bondmate. Perhaps Jim will recognize his presence, as he often does, and curl around him. 

Pleased by the thought, Spock quickens his pace. He is surprised to find a light emanating from the bedroom. He enters quietly, stopping in the doorway when he sees Jim. 

He is awake. 

He is sitting up in the bed, reading one of the paper books from his collection. He is wearing one of Spock’s meditation robes, his fingers idly rubbing the sleeve. He often does so when Spock is away, a fact which once confused him. Once he realised it comforted Jim to wear his clothes, however, he found himself illogically pleased by the habit.

Spock watches him, a feeling of warmth settling through him, as it always does when he is in his bondmate’s presence. 

Jim looks up then, and his eyes brighten, his smile transforming his features. “Spock.” His arm falls, the book dropping onto the mattress with a soft thump. He gets up from the bed quickly. Spock meets him in the middle of the room, where he is embraced tightly. 

Spock closes his eyes, his face pressing to Jim’s so that he can feel the warmth of his skin. One of Jim’s hands curls around the back of his neck and even that simple touch is soothing; helps to calm the chaos of his mind. 

"I missed you," Jim breathes against his ear. "I missed you so much." 

"I am pleased you are awake," Spock tells him. Jim kisses his temple. 

"I was waiting for you," he says, a chiding note in his voice. Spock nods, his fingers coming up to cradle Jim’s cheek. It is a relief to feel his thoughts again, to feel the warmth of his mind, the gentle reciprocal touch against his skin. 

Spock’s fingers find the meld points, seeking permission without words. Jim hums, his own hand mirroring Spock’s ”Your mind to mine,” Spock murmurs, drawing him closer, steadying him as Jim lets his shields fall. 

Allows Spock into his mind, into his thoughts. 

_I have missed you as well._. 

He lets the words flow between them, lets Jim feel the depth of his emotions, the ache he carried with him while he was away, the relief that they are no longer apart. 

Jim echoes the sentiment, cradles his mind close; pulling the tension away from him gently. Spock allows him to take it, basks in the freedom of giving himself over completely to his bondmate. Jim will take care of him now; as he always does. Of this, Spock has no doubt.


	12. You, this time

Jim is drenched by the time he makes it back to his apartment building. He tried to make a run for it when the light drizzle became a deluge, but even at top speed–which, to be honest, isn’t anywhere close to as fast as it used to be–the rain got the best of him. 

Sighing, he swipes a hand over his face as the lift doors close. Summer rains are not supposed to be cold. But the chill seeps in anyway, making him shiver as he resists the urge to shake the water from his hair. 

There’s a young ensign riding in the lift beside him, and he’s certain watching a a highly decorated admiral shaking himself off like a wet dog would be far too entertaining. So, Jim exchanges brief greetings and then shivers near the door and waits for the lift to bring him home. 

He’s still shivering by the time he presses his hand to the security panel and lets himself into the apartment. 

The warmth that envelops him immediately makes him feel better. Another good reason to share a living space with a vulcan. The vulcan in question appears a second later. 

Crossing the room, he greets warmly, “Jim.” But the welcome in his expression is replaced with concern as he nears. He glances toward the closet where they keep the umbrellas and Jim smiles sheepishly. 

“Forgot it,” he explains, his teeth still clicking from the chill. 

Carefully, Spock brushes Jim’s fumbling fingers aside to assist with the closures on his jacket. 

“Thanks…” 

Spock hastens his efforts, pulling Jim free of his sleeves with little effort before reaching for his shirt. “A warm shower will be beneficial,” he says as he works. 

Jim smiles. “Only if you join me.” He leans in for a kiss, but Spock keeps it briefer than he would prefer, reaching for the clasp on his pants as he pulls away. The sodden fabric is still dripping onto the carpet. Jim takes over, amused at the pursed lips he gets in response. “I’m okay,” Jim assures him. 

It’s a bit of a struggle to wrestle himself out of the sopping pants, but Spock holds his arm and that helps. And then he ushers him toward the bathroom, and turns the water on after depositing the wet clothes into the recycler. 

Once he takes off his underwear, Jim steps into the large shower, sighing gratefully as the warm water hits his skin. He closes his eyes, lets the steam warm him for a second and is about to poke his head out to see what’s taking Spock so long, when a familiar lean frame presses against his back. 

“Your temperature is rising,” Spock says with approval, lips moving against the back of Jim’s neck. 

“I can think of better way to get me warm” Jim says as he reaches for Spock’s arm to pull him around. Spock shakes his head, just a little, to dislodge the drops of water that have collected on his face. Smiling, Jim steps in closer and kisses his chin, brushes his lips thoughtfully over the line of his jaw as Spock holds still to allow it. “This is new, isn’t it?” he asks quietly. 

“To what do you refer?” Spock’s hands are on his hips, thumbs brushing lightly, but otherwise not moving. 

Jim kisses up to his ear, slides in so their bodies are flush, erections trapped between them. “Usually, it’s me warming you up.” 

“You _have_ proven talented in that regard,” Spock replies seriously. Jim’s amusement is whisked away when he adds in a low voice, “I do believe, however, that the same principles apply.”

Raising his eyebrows Jim asks, “Is that a request to fuck you, Mr. Spock?” 

Spock’s fingers tighten where they hold him. “If you have no objection, Admiral.”

Grinning, Jim backs him into the tiles. “None at all.”


	13. Take my coat. It's cold outside.

"He’s here. Jim!" 

Jim drops to his knees, ignoring the jagged rocks cutting into his knees. Still not daring to believe it’s true—that Spock is really alive—he doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare touch. 

Can’t bear to lose him a second time. Not like that. Never again. 

"We need to get him back to the ship," McCoy’s rough voice breaks over him and Jim swallows hard, presses his lips together to force himself to still the tumult of emotions threatening to drown him. He tilts his head up, finds Saavik’s gaze. 

"He will continue to age at an accelerated pace if we remain," she confirms. That’s the decision made then. A plan to get all of them off the planet is already forming. 

He turns back to Spock first, already shrugging out of his jacket. He folds it into a rectangle, ignoring the stares he can feel from all around them, and gently cradles Spock’s cheek. He lifts gently and slides the makeshift pillow beneath his head, lets his fingers caress Spock’s face as he pulls away. 

And just as McCoy said, his mind is blank. No answering warmth, nothing from the bond they once shared. 

His throat closes again, and it takes all of his willpower to turn away from his husband. 

Bones stays by his side as Jim activates the Klingons’ communicator, ready to do whatever he needs to do to get aboard that ship. With Spock in his arms


	14. It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway.

Jim wakes with a start. He turns his head, and finds Spock rising from the bed. ”Spock?” he mumbles blearily. 

His first officer turns. The soft glow from the stars outside the viewport illuminate his lean body, the soft curve of his shoulders. Even half asleep, Jim’s gaze traces downward, over the planes of his stomach, his hips. ”Where are you going?” 

"I apologize," Spock says quietly. "It was not my intention to wake you." 

"It’s okay," Jim tells him, voice still rough with sleep; with arousal now too, if he’s honest. But he ignores it. "Something wrong?" 

Spock reaches for his robes, the ones he typically wears to meditate. “Negative. I am experiencing difficulty sleeping.” 

"You’re going to meditate?" Jim asks, although he knows the answer. It’s something that never used to happen in the middle of the night. Before Genesis. Before his katra was restored. 

Jim smiles at his husband, not wanting to linger on thoughts of the past. ”Do you want me to …” The words trail off as Spock’s head tilts in confusion. 

Jim recognizes the quizzical glint in his eye—there’s a memory he’s trying to grasp. 

Jim waits. 

"Bonded Vulcans are soothed by the touch of their mates," he finally murmurs and for a second, the ache flares. Jim nods, not wanting to broadcast his distress. 

But even with Spock’s missing memories, their bond is as strong as it ever was. Frown lines appear between his husband’s eyes. 

"You wish to touch me." 

Jim tries to smile. “Only if you want me to.” 

"I have no objection," Spock tells him, and with the soft words, it’s like he was never gone. Jim’s smile comes easily as he sits up and holds out a hand. Spock’s fingers are cold as they slide over his palm. Jim folds them into his, drawing him in until Spock is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Spock accepts his kiss without hesitation. His thumb moves over Jim’s skin, like it always used to do, a reflex that Jim is very glad not to have lost. He brushes his hand over the soft fabric at his husband’s shoulder. 

"It works better with more skin…"

"Vulcans are touch telepaths," Spock says, although Jim isn’t sure if he’s reminding himself or simply agreeing. He lets Jim pull his robe free until it pools around his hips. 

Jim’s free hand traces the line of hair from his chest. Spock watches him, his own fingers moving to reciprocate against Jim’s arm, leaving a tingling trail in their wake. The warmth of their bond brought to life through touch. 

Just as it always has been. 

Their joined hands fall into familiar patterns, Spock’s version of a kiss as he caresses Jim’s fingers over and over, his other hand moving up over his arm, over his shoulder and sliding up his neck until he finds the meld points.

Jim closes his eyes, the warmth enveloping him as he lets Spock in. As he allows his husband to experience his distress, his grief at losing him—the grief that sometimes resurges when he’s reminded of all they’ve lost. The vast love that dwarfs all of it, and the gratitude that Spock is here with him again. 

There is nowhere else I would choose to be…

The words wash through him, soothing him, easing the worry and the strain of the past months. 

Without opening his eyes, he mirrors Spock’s caress, cradling his cheek and asking to be allowed in. 

Spock’s distress is palpable as well, the worry that he can only share between them, in the privacy of a meld. The fear that Jim will grow dissatisfied as he struggles to regain his memories. 

And the bigger fear that the memories won’t return in their entirety. 

Without conscious choice, Jim pulls Spock closer, their foreheads meeting as he whispers, “We’ll make new memories. Never and always,” he adds, needing Spock to understand that he isn’t going anywhere. 

"Touching and touched," Spock echoes, the words found easily, the echo of their marriage bond. Jim smiles, and when he opens his eyes he finds Spock’s gaze; soft with affection, with the warmth that’s always been his. 

The important things haven’t changed at all.


	15. Grieve With Thee

Into the mountains, where it's quiet and they can't be disturbed, to the old cabin which belongs to Jim's family. He used to go there as a child, and he and Spock have spent so much time there, not recently. Jim hasn't gone back since Spock died, had planned to sell it so he would never have to see it again, to relive those memories. But this time, when they go, Jim doesn't expect the wave of grief. David will never see this place, Jim will never get to make memories here with his son. So many birthdays missed, so many holidays, so much wasted. But it's the guilt that nearly drowns him. He stumbles away from Spock, flees to the bedroom he used to sleep in as a child, sinks onto the bed and drops his face into his hands.

Spock follows, uncertain, not knowing how to soothe such grief. And he doesn't understand the guilt. Not until Jim mumbles into his palms, "I have you back, and I've never been so happy. And David…" He shakes his head, his voice cutting off, anguished.

Spock crosses the room, steps more assured. He remembers this, how to soothe his mate, remembers that his touch is beneficial and so he sits beside his mate and takes Jim's hand, running his first two fingers over the veins, tracing bone and projecting soothing warmth into Jim's mind. Jim watches their hands, breaths uneven as he tries to calm himself.

"Spock…" It's shaky, more uncertain than Spock's reaction had been a moment ago.

"I am here," Spock says simply. He does not know any other words of reassurance, has no experience on which to draw. He has witnessed Jim grieving before this, and it was always his presence which seemed to soothe him. It does so now, Jim breathing out again, twisting his body so that his face is pressed into Spock's neck.

Spock's reaction is automatic, instinctive in a way that he cannot explain. He maneuvers them so that they are lying on the bed, so that Jim can mold his body to Spock's. He finds the meld points with ease, without hesitations and Jim sinks into him, his mind reaching, wanting, desperate after so much time alone.

He draws Jim to him, cradles his thoughts, filling the dark and lonely places with warmth.


End file.
